


Encore

by ragecandybar (raunchyandpaunchy)



Series: Dick-or-Treat [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Exhibitionism, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, the things Raihan's Rotomphone has seen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24083716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raunchyandpaunchy/pseuds/ragecandybar
Summary: At Piers' gigs, the real show happens backstage.
Relationships: Kibana | Raihan/Nezu | Piers
Series: Dick-or-Treat [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737541
Comments: 8
Kudos: 106
Collections: Dick or Treat - Scrohto Region





	Encore

The crowds of Spikemuth are loud, their roars and cheers making their way back to what constitutes as backstage. Everyone here knows well enough that Piers and his band don’t do encores, but they still cheer for one anyway—his fanbase are small but loyal, filling the venue with the kind of energy that makes Piers feel like he could punch Arceus. Even now, countless gigs later, it’s no less intoxicating—singing his heart out and having the crowd scream his own words back to him, and right now he can hear them chant his name, the enthusiastic staccato pounding in his ears along with his racing heartbeat.

Post-gig adrenaline is intense enough, but this—

His back pressed against the cold, damp brick wall, one hand gripping his hip as the other grasps his cock, neon lights streaking across the wet concrete in the edges of his vision—

This is something else.

“Better hurry up,” Raihan purrs, licking a hot, slow stripe along Piers’ cock. “Don’t want to keep the crowd waiting.”

Piers’ fingers grip harder onto Raihan’s hair, and he can still feel the press of guitar strings against them, blunt and raw under the callouses. “Told ya. Don’t do encores.”

Raihan grins, his pointed canine bright and dangerous in the dark. “Mmm, that’s right.” He wets his lips. “Keeps them—” Lazily licks along Piers’ cock again, like he’s got all the time in the world and isn’t on his knees in a piss-soaked alleyway, “—wanting more.”

The irony of the situation isn’t lost on Piers. The beer crate he’s standing on creaks ominously under him, and he’s about to tell Raihan to shut his face when the bastard pushes him harder against the wall, taking Piers’ cock down his throat in one fluid, breathtaking motion.

“Fuck,” Piers gasps, ragged. “You’re too fuckin’ good at this—”

Raihan sucks dick just like he battles—competitive and ruthless, with the kind of intensity that leaves his opponent breathless and sweating. All molten, gliding heat, the stud in his tongue tracing along the shaft, taking Piers like he’s not even a challenge. He looks up, grinning; eyes glinting and lips stretching around Piers’ cock, and all Piers can do is loll against the wall, clinging to his collar like a lifeline.

He gives Piers’ dick a few more slow, languid sucks before letting it slip out of his mouth. “Why don’t you tell your fans what’s gonna happen when we get back to yours?”

In the darkness, a red light flashes faintly, Raihan’s Rotomphone set to record. Piers throbs, and Raihan gives him a shit-eating grin before taking him back into his mouth and sucking with even more intensity than before.

It’s hard to form words, but Piers is nothing if not persistent. “Gonna…” Winds his fingers tighter in Raihan’s mohawk, gripping desperately, “get on my knees for you and— _ shit, _ Rai—” he swallows, grasping for the rest of the sentence, “—let you do whatever you want with me—”

Raihan hums approvingly around his cock, and it reverberates through his body like distorted guitars rattling through an amp.

“Let you,” he breathes, barely holding himself together, “tie me to the bed, and, ah—” Raihan’s fingers dig in harder, nails biting into bare skin, “fuck me in whichever hole you want— _ fuck,  _ Rai,  _ please _ —”

The bastard laughs around his cock— _ laughs, _ like the smug fuck he is, but thankfully doesn’t stop sucking him off, spit-slick lips gliding up and down his shaft, tongue teasing under the head every time he draws back. It’s enough to have Piers wrecked as it is, but then Raihan pulls off and works him with his hand, looking up at him through thick, black lashes.

“Go on then,” he says, winking, “give the fans what they want.”

Raihan’s hand grips tighter, works faster, and Piers’ world narrows to snapshots of sensations—the dull roar of the crowd, his own rapidly quickening breaths, shapes and light blurring in the periphery of his vision. Sweat, tracing down his back, across his collarbone; heat prickling all over his skin like he’s on fire. Raihan’s hand, pumping, his tongue stuck out, and it’s this that has him coming undone, knees nearly buckling under him as he comes fast and messy into Raihan’s waiting mouth.

For a few moments, he forgets where he is, slumped against the wall trying to collect himself. When he comes to, finger hooked through the ring on his collar, he finds it hard to care—let them find him like this, riding the twin highs of post-gig and post-orgasm. Might finally put Spikemuth on the map, he thinks, a delirious laugh escaping him.

“Y’alright?” Raihan gets to his feet, pocketing his Rotomphone.

Piers looks back at him, still dazed. “Fuck yeah.” Runs his hand over his chest, the thin mesh of his top grazing against his palm. “Just need a minute to catch my breath.”

Raihan smirks. “And here I thought you could handle anything I could throw at you.”

“Shut it, tosser,” Piers mumbles, too blissed out to really mean it. He pulls himself back into his underwear and zips up his jeans, wiping his palms on the denim before stretching out and stepping off the beer crate. “Should probably go flag a taxi now, yeah?”

Raihan pulls him close, the look in his eyes downright filthy. “Definitely, baby.” Bites his neck, giving the ring on his collar a light pull. “Show’s not over yet.”


End file.
